


It's A Not So Terrible Life

by Nekomata58919



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Angst, Chirstmas miracles, Fluff, M/M, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-09-10 16:21:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8923981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nekomata58919/pseuds/Nekomata58919
Summary: Jim Gordon knows he's messed things up for everyone around him. Feeling particularly sorry for himself on Chirstmas Eve, Jim thinks maybe...everyone would be happier if he'd never been born.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Holidays Everyone!!! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧
> 
> Here's my contribution to #GobblepotWinter2016, with the prompts of Eggnog, Caroling, and Presents. I hope you all enjoy.
> 
> And of course, thank you to thekeyholder for betaing this for me. ^_^

      It's A Not So Terrible Life         

 

                Spiked eggnog was the only good thing about Christmas anymore. At least, as far as Jim was concerned. It was too cold out, Gotham had an even grayer overcast than usual, and couples were practically everywhere. How depressing.

                Jim glanced at the red and green bag – the only true source of color in his apartment - sitting innocently on his dining table. He shook his head and took a swig of his eggnog. It had been a stupid idea and Jim was considering just tossing it in the trash and going to bed. Then again it had been kind of expensive.

                More annoyed than before, Jim downed the rest of his drink and plodded off to bed. He didn’t want to think about anything. The present wouldn’t solve things anyway. No matter what he did, he fucked things up for everyone. Barbara, Lee, Harvey, Captain Essen, Captain Barnes…Oswald. 

With a sigh Jim collapsed into bed. He’d done nothing good for anyone it seemed. All he had left was his job and self-loathing. Merry Christmas indeed.

                Maybe everyone would be happier if Jim had never been around in the first place.

 

* * *

 

                It was the biting cold that woke Jim up. Groaning, he opened his eyes only for a falling snowflake to force them shut again. What the hell was snow doing in his apartment? Jim shielded his face as he sat up and looked around.

                “The hell?” Jim’s head whipped from side to side, taking in the snowy park surrounding him. He could have sworn he fell asleep at home. Jim didn’t think he’d been _that_ drunk. Shivering, he stood and headed for the street.

 

                Jim trudged through the snow up to his front door. He was about to enter when he noticed something off. A warm glow shone brightly from inside, dotted with the reds, greens, and blues of Christmas lights.

                Frowning, Jim peered through the window. A couple sat on his couch, laughing and talking. They toasted each other. “What the hell?” Jim growled for the second time that night. He tried to open the door, but found it was locked. Incensed, he pounded on the door.

                It opened a few moments later, the man from inside glaring at him. “Don’t you know how late it is? What do you want?”

                “What do I want? You’re in my house!” Jim snapped.

                The man’s brows rose skeptically. “Sure buddy. Why don’t you go have a few more beers? I don’t think you’re drunk enough.” The door slammed shut in Jim’s face.

 

                The GCPD at least seemed normal. Jim walked through the bull pen towards the stairs. Maybe Harvey would be able to help him get the people out of his house. He was a little surprised, however, to see Harvey leaning against a desk, drinking, and chatting up the woman sitting there. “Harvey!”

                Harvey looked over and raised an eyebrow. “What? And that’s Detective Bullock to you.”

                “Ha ha, very funny. Look, some people broke into my house. I think I left my badge in there too. It’s not on me, at any rate. Think you could help me out?” Jim asked.

                “That’s not my job, pal. Try asking someone else,” Harvey replied, brushing Jim off to go back to attempting to woo the lady officer who was clearly annoyed.

                Jim frowned. “Yeah, I know it’s not your job, but as a friend I thought you’d help.”

                “Friend? I have no idea who you are. Now leave me alone,” Harvey snapped, pushing past Jim.

                “Sir, you can try asking Alverez. He’s around here somewhere,” the other officer suggested.

                Jim gave a distracted nod and hurried after Harvey. “What do you mean you don’t know me? We’ve worked together for over two years,” he demanded.

                “Look, clearly you’re either drunk or nuts, but either way I don’t care. Fuck off,” Harvey growled stopping to get in Jim’s face. “Unless you _wanna_ be locked up for the night?”

                “What’s going on down here?”

                Jim and Harvey both looked up and now Jim did have to wonder if he was drunk or crazy. Captain Essen was coming down the stairs looking particularly annoyed. Jim felt like he’d been punched in the gut. How was this possible?

                “This guy here’s the problem.” Harvey jerked a thumb at Jim. “He’s insisting that someone broke into his house. But he also thinks we know each other so I dunno how right in the head he is.”

                Captain Essen looked Jim over critically. “Sir, maybe it’d be a good idea to stay here tonight,” she suggested, her tone implying she thought Jim was likely to go on some sort of drunk rampage at any minute.

                “Maybe we should have Nygma take a look at his head. Give him something to do other than spout riddles at us for the night,” Harvey snorted.

                “No!” Jim exclaimed, holding up his hands. “No, I’m perfectly fine. I’ll go.” Whatever was going on, there was no way in hell he was letting Nygma anywhere near him. Jim turned on his heel and marched quickly from the GCPD, ignoring the muttering behind his back.

 

                As Jim walked the streets of Gotham, he couldn’t stop wondering what was going on. How was Sarah Essen alive? And Ed was still working at the GCPD? Jim spotted a newsstand and stopped. Did he even want to read it? Everything else so far seemed fucked up. Steeling himself, Jim picked up the paper. And immediately wished he hadn’t.

**Mayor Galavan Takes Over Wayne Enterprises After Tragic Death of The Wayne Heir**

                Jim slammed the paper back down. “No, that can’t be right!” He picked it up again, and sure enough the headline remained the same. Jim dropped the paper as if he’d been stung. Galavan was Mayor of Gotham and Bruce was dead. “What else is going to go fucking wrong tonight?”

                He had no idea how Galavan had become mayor. Surely Oswald wouldn’t have let that happen? Oswald…He’d have to know what was going on. But since Oswald wasn’t the mayor, who knew where he was? Jim checked his watch. Ten o’clock. The Sirens’ would be open, and Jim knew Oswald had held a few parties there so Barbara would surely know where he was.

 

                The Sirens didn’t exist. After much searching, it seemed as though Barbara had never even lived in Gotham. And now, standing outside of what was once Oswald’s club, the red glow from the neon fish sign nearly blinding him, Jim was beginning to think he hadn’t lived in Gotham either. At least, not in this weird reality. Or dream. Even though it didn’t seem like a dream or a hallucination. But it had to be.

                Jim shook his head and moved on. He didn’t think going in there would be a good idea, but it was possible that if Oswald was in Arkham or Blackgate past newspapers would have said something. So off to the library it was.

                Even though it was late and Christmas Eve, the Gotham Library was open thankfully. Jim was promptly directed to the newspapers and he began his search. As he had feared, the more he looked through the papers the more he came to realize everything he had done had been undone. The Wayne case had been dropped, Jerome Valeska had escaped, the murder rate was as high as it had been when Jim had first come to Gotham, and…

 

                Snow whipped about in a freezing flurry. The gravestones and mausoleums seemed even grimmer, burdened by thick white sheets and surrounded by murky brown slush. Two graves, however, stood pristine and undisturbed. The snow sparkled serenely before them and somehow that was all the more heartbreaking.

                Jim’s hand shook as he reached forward and brushed the snow away from the names. Gertrud Kapleput had died shortly after Oswald’s body had been found. Neither had a proper funeral. Jim dropped to his knees, clutching the top of Oswald’s headstone in a white knuckled grip.

                Though the newspapers were vague about Oswald’s death, Jim knew what must have happened. Without him being in the GCPD, Harvey had been the one to take Oswald down to the pier. Harvey had shot Oswald and dumped his body in the river. And no-one cared.

                “God, Oswald…I’m sorry,” Jim rasped, voice tight. “Why wasn’t I there? I should’ve been…I stopped it! I know I did. This…” His hands dropped and tears blurred his vision. “This isn’t how it’s supposed to be! Harvey’s a good person. Galvan should be dead, not Bruce. Not you, Oswald…I’m sorry.”

  

* * *

 

                 Jim shot up in bed, gasping. He looked around wildly at the room around him. The room. Jim was on his bed, in his bedroom. He scrambled off the bed and pushed through the door, hurried down the hall, and stopped in the living room. No Christmas tree, no music, no strangers on his couch.

                A quick rapping at the door caused Jim to nearly jump out of his skin. He froze, wondering if the people had come back and were about to kick him out. When the door didn’t open on its own, Jim cautiously approached. He paused a moment, hand on the knob. Was that caroling he heard on the other side? Jim opened the door.

                “…Christmas; and when you walk down the street, say ‘Hello’ to friends you know, and everyone you meet!”

                “Oswald?”

                Oswald grinned up at Jim. “I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d pay you a visit.” His smile waned and he looked a little nervous. “May I come in? It’s very cold out here.”

                Jim, stunned into silence, stepped back and allowed Oswald inside.

                Oswald limped past him. “Thank you. Did you honestly not even put up a tree? I always assumed you were a bit of a Scrooge, Jim, but honestly.”

                “You’re alive,” Jim finally managed to say.

                Oswald turned, brow raised. “Yes…very observant of you, Jim.” He opened his mouth to make some sort of remark, but was cut off as Jim accosted him with a hug. “Jim!?”

                “You’re alive…” Jim repeated, wrapping protective arms around Oswald. He buried his nose in Oswald’s ridiculous hair and sighed. It had been a dream! He was in his apartment, with Oswald who was alive. Which meant everything else had to be normal again as well.

                “Jim, though I quite like this hug, I have to wonder if you’re alright,” Oswald said hesitantly. “Especially with the empty liquor bottles nearby.”

                 Jim’s eyes snapped open. If that had been a dream…He let go of Oswald and stepped back. “…I’m not drunk,” was all Jim could think of to say.

                Oswald peered worriedly at him. “That’s something someone who’s drunk would say.”

                “I’m not,” Jim snapped. Immediately he shook his head. “Sorry. I’m not drunk, just…I don’t know.”

                “If this isn’t a good time, I can go. I probably shouldn’t have showed up to begin with,” Oswald replied, limping towards the door. “My apologies for interrupting your night, Jim.”

                “No, wait!” Jim spotted the bag on his dining table and snatched it up. “It’s not a bad time at all.”

                “Are you sure?” Oswald asked, stopping in front of the door.

                “Yes. I, uh, here.” Jim held out the bag, sure he probably looked as uncomfortable as he felt. “This was, is, for you.”

                Oswald hesitantly took the bag. “For me?”

                “Yeah,” Jim grunted. He cleared his throat and stood with his hands on his hips. “It’s an apology. For, well, everything I guess. I’m not good with words, obviously, so I figured…It’s not much.”

                  Oswald, his lips threatening to curl into a smile, unknotted the green rope handles of the bag and removed the red tissue paper inside. His pale eyes widened as he reached in and pulled out the present; a snow globe. Inside was a family of Emperor penguins surrounded by gently falling glittery snow.

                “I wasn’t sure what you’d like. It plays music,” Jim explained.

                Oswald turned the globe upside down and turned the little crank at the bottom. _Walking In A Winter Wonderland_ began to play in the soft tinkling sound of a classic music box. Oswald stared at the globe a moment more before turning his adoring gaze on Jim. “Oh, Jim. I love it.”

                “You do?”

                Oswald nodded, smiling brightly. “I do. It’s wonderful!” He set the globe down and threw his arms around Jim’s neck, much to Jim’s surprise. To his even greater surprise, Oswald kissed him. “Thank you.”

                Before Oswald could pull away and likely apologize, Jim curled his arms around Oswald’s waist and kissed him back.

“Merry Christmas, Oswald.”

                It seemed despite how awful life could be, sometimes it was pretty wonderful too.


End file.
